nce or twice, when the line closed up on itself caterpillar-
fashion, I was able to make out my white shirt dancing dimly;
and once, where some trick of the tunnel sorted out the sounds, I
caught a scrap of conversation.

"D'you suppose they'll be able to see the shirt?"

"God knows. I can hardly make it out from here."

"When it looks like the right time to you, sir, turn the
flashlight on it."

"All right. God damn! Keep on going--you nearly knocked out
my eye-glass!"

Even over my shoulder, looking backward, I could see practically
nothing, for what little light came in through the opening was
swallowed by the first few yards. There was a suspicion of
paleness in the gloom behind, and the occasional suggestion of an
outline of rough wall; no more.

Nor was the tunnel straight by any means. It turned and twisted
constantly; and at every bend the men who originally closed it
had built up a wall of heavy masonry that Scharnhoff had had to
force his way through. In those places the broken stones were
now lying in the fairway, as you knew by the suffering when you
came in contact with them; some of the split-off edges were as
sharp as glass.

It was good fun, all the same, while it lasted. If we had been
crawling down a sewer, or a modern passage of any kind, the sense
of danger and discomfort would, no doubt, have overwhelmed all
other considerations. But, even supposing Scharnhoff had been on
a vain hunt, and the veritable Tomb of the Kings of Judah did not
lie somewhere in the dark ahead of us, we were nevertheless under
the foundations of Solomon's temple, groping our way into
mysteries that had not been disclosed, perhaps, since the days
when the Queen of Sheba came and paid her homage to the most
wise king. You could feel afraid, but you couldn't wish you
weren't there.

I have no idea how long it took to crawl the length of that black
passage. It seemed like hours. I heard heavy footsteps behind
me after a while. Some one following in a hurry, who could see
no better than we could, kept stumbling over the falling masonry;
and once, when he fell headlong, I heard him swear titanically in
a foreign tongue. I called back to whoever it was to crawl
unless he wanted to be shot, but probably the words were all
mixed up in the tunnel echoes, for he came on as before.

Then all at once Goodenough flashed on the light for a fraction
of a second and the shirt showed like a phantom out of blacknes